Merry Christmas, Oliver Style
by Flame Angel Lee Maxwell
Summary: One shot. Much "dirtiness"


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Merry Christmas

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A/N: 

Happy holidays all! Hope they are wonderful! ^ ^

This is a quick "porn" fic I wrote as a Christmas gift to a very good friend of mine! She's a pr0n "virgin" so I went easy on her. Although, now I can claim her pr0n "virginity!" Glee! 

Sage! I've got you "virginity!" Virginity! Virginity!

3

Sage belongs to my friend. Sadly, all associations to Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowlings/Warner Bros.

Damn them all!

~~~~~

Gently the snow fell, covering the mostly horizontal surfaces with its white powder. The school looked picturesque in its Old World wintry wonder. Inside, a few students and teachers that remained behind for winter holidays.

A fire crackled merrily in the Gryffindor Common Room fire grate with nary any occupants, save one. He sat alone in an armchair near the flickering flame.

Oliver Wood focused on reading the Runes text book in his hands, donning casual jeans and a bulky sweater to ward off the chill. His eyebrows knit together in concentration. A movement on the girl's stairway caught his eye, requiring his full attention.

Sage swept to the bottom of the stairs, carrying a wrapped parcel and wearing a miniskirt, high heels and a sly smile. For yet another moment in his life, Oliver was awed by her. He watched as she drew closer to him, right up until she was before him.

"You know, it's dangerous to be sitting under the mistletoe."

And before he could think of a retort or action, she pushed both the book and parcel onto the floor and was in his lap, pressing her lips to his. He felt himself respond instinctively before his mind had even registered the actions.

It wasn't long before they heated up the burner to heavy duty making out (i.e. TOUNGE HOCKEY! 3) which, in turn, led to more adult questions. Such as, does my breath reek? Or, do I feel lumpy?

And, then again, taking into consideration their level of hormonal activity and dating time, sex was pretty damned obvious, if you ask me. I mean, if you'd been eating face with the same person for six years on an almost daily basis, wouldn't you think that kicking it up a notch would be this planned and glorious event?

Well, sugah, it doesn't and it ain't, I'm telling you. Before either knew it, they were stripped bare, pressed harshly together, winding up the last bits of foreplay. 

They fell off the chair, Oliver landing on top, yet didn't loose their rhythm. At this point, not even a visit from You-Know-Who for a lovely spot of tea could stop them. It was hot, despite the wintry chill and the stone floor of the castle, sweat pouring from their glands like raindrops.

Sage grasped his chin in her hand, whispering against his lips, "Take me."

"You sure?"

"Without a doubt."

And so it was settled. Oliver devoured her lips as he spread her open to his invasion. She squeaked into his mouth, wrapping her legs about his waist and threading her fingers into his hair. He carefully positioned himself, using his arms to support some of his weight to keep from placing too much on her at one time.

Before he began insertion, he kissed her with a quick warning, "It's going to hurt." He took her vigorous nod to mean 'continue' so he did. With a fast thrust of his hips, he had penetrated her, claiming her virginity sure as day. Sage only gasped, nails digging painfully into his scalp as a few tears crept out of her beautiful blue orbs. Oliver apologized, kissing away her tears.

When she had adjusted to the rather large invasion, she bucked her hips into his, asking him for more. He started off slow, not wanting to hurt her, but the way she writhed under him and felt clenching around him, crying out his name and using her nails to drive him faster was far too much sensory input for him to remain at that pace.

In time enough, they had set their own fast, furious rhythm, and the only noises (aside from verbal) was the smacking of flesh upon flesh.

Oliver was taken by surprise when, all of a sudden, Sage clamped her hands down on his shoulders, clawing at them, and screamed his name. A warm fluid issued forth as her womanly muscles tightened harshly about his stiff erection. He thrust into her one last time before he felt an explosion in his lower abdomen, his sperm spurting into her, mingling with her fluids.

He collapsed, bringing her limp form with his when he rolled over, waiting to gather his wits about him before he even dared to speak. When he did, the lust and passion was still evident in the huskiness of his voice.

"Merry Christmas, Sage."


End file.
